


this thing hurts like hell (but what did you expect?)

by sleepclinics



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Bottom Louis, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Sadness, Top Harry, also i can't be totally sure but, i don't think niall will actually be in this but only mentioned, i feel like all these will be spoilers but whatever, i have no idea how to even tag these things, i'm writing this as i go along but yeah, idk - Freeform, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, niall may or may not be completely included, so if you like zouiam than you're a very lucky ducky, so much zouiam brotp things in here, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:45:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepclinics/pseuds/sleepclinics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis has a bad past. harry may or may not want to help make his future a good one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is the first fic i've written in literally three years, so it may be a bit rusty. originally, i was just going to make it one huge thing, but i'm only about 25% of the way through right now and i couldn't wait any longer to post it! 
> 
> the title is from the song "the sea is a good place to think of the future" by los campesinos, so all credits to them for that!
> 
> BEWARE that there are mentions of some touchy subjects in here - depression, anxiety (attacks), mentions of past rape/torture, and suicide/suicidal thoughts. if you think even the slightest bit that you might be triggered by that, than please don't read. 
> 
> alright, that's that. here's the prologue! i hope you all enjoy and let me know how you feel about it or if you have any questions either in the comments section or on on my twitter @louveletters. ♡

They tell him to forget. They tell him to stop thinking about it, maybe that will make it all go away, and they tell him to move on with his life - to put this past him and to start _living_ again.

But that’s just the _thing_ , Louis thinks bitterly, dejectedly, gruelingly. How is he expected to “stop thinking about it” when every time he closes his eyes, it feels like a kick to the gut? How is he supposed to “move on with his life” when he can hardly move out of his bed without his best friend dragging him out of it? How is he presumed to go back to his old habit of life, of partying and socializing and loving everyone and fucking everyone, and how is he supposed to start living again when he doesn’t even _want_ to live anymore?

People keep trying to help Louis. They treat him like glass and they shove colorful little pills in his face until he swallows them all down, dry. And they all have that cursed look of pity swimming in their eyes when they want to reach out to touch Louis, to hug him so tight he can’t breathe and to kiss him and coddle him and mend him, but they all also know that if they touched Louis, he really wouldn’t, couldn’t be able to breathe.

They all want to fix Louis, like the feeble little broken doll they think he is. And that’s just another thing - because while everyone is scrambling around, trying to find all the pieces of Louis that had cracked off and trying to superglue them back together to put Louis together again, there's Louis, _liking_ those cracked pieces. He uses those sharp little fragments of himself to shove and to twist into himself to create the type of pain that throbs throughout every inch of your body, that reminds you that you’re still there and you’re still feeling and breathing, even when you don’t want to be.

So how is he supposed to just turn off the blinding side of his mind when the burn of the blind is what’s keeping him alive?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter one!

Louis has been awake for 73 hours straight when he decides to take matters into his own hands. **  
**

He takes a few minutes to up his fortitude to peel himself out of his bed, and when he finally does, it’s with shaky legs and chilled skin and an anxious mind. A glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table tells him that it’s just past three in the morning, and honestly, Louis would feel just a little more fed up if he hadn’t spent all his energy on forcing himself to stay awake for so long. **  
**

With feet that have four layers of socks on them, Louis drags himself out of his room and into the main foyer of his shared flat. His sweater-pawed hands rummage around in the Drawer of Drugs and Other Miscellaneous Junk of Sorts until he comes across an almost empty bottle of prescription sleep medication that Zayn had gotten two years ago in a spout of insomnia. Louis shakes the remaining four pills out of the bottle and throws them back, swallowing down hard, before padding his way to the other side of the flat where Zayn’s room is. **  
**

Louis doesn’t see Liam’s trademark pair of sneakers by the doorway, so that means he had to work the late shift tonight, or he's with Sophia. Louis opens the door as quietly as he can, by the squeak that’s been caught in the hinges every since they’d moved in decides that it’s the right time to make an appearance, and Louis sees the Zayn shaped lump in the middle of the bed stir a bit, but no sounds are made. With a small sigh of relief, Louis goes over and lifts up the covers, quickly yet quietly shuffling in next to Zayn’s warm and familiar body. **  
**

Hoping to just be able to cuddle up next to Zayn and drift off into a mostly-peaceful sleep without waking sleep without waking the other boy up, Louis fits his back to Zayn’s chest and stretching one of his hands underneath the long pillow, resting his own hand next to Zayn’s. Louis’ plan falls apart, though, when he feels the hand laying next to his intertwine with his own and an arm being thrown gently around his middle. **  
**

Louis can feel a small sigh being released on the back of his neck, before Zayn's groggy voice is breaking the uneasy silence surrounding the room. “Y’alright, Lou?”

 ****

The hands holding Louis tighten a bit when Louis sniffles, tears that he refuses to let fall gathering in his eyes. Again. “Yeah. Sorry to wake you, Z.”

 ****

“You can always wake me, babe, you _know_ that.” Zayn says in a voice that’s just as soft as the fingers that are stroking around Louis’ own. A kiss is pressed to the back of Louis’ head. “Get some sleep now, please.” **  
**

Louis doesn’t reply, but he does relax the rest of the way into the embrace of his best friend. Zayn is one of the two people that get to touch Louis now, the other one being Liam, and the two boys are definitely aware of their privilege  - making sure that if their touches are going to be the only touches Louis gets to feel anymore, that's they're the with gentle hands that are full of love. Louis sometimes loves his best friends.

 ****

He waits until Zayn's breathing is evening back out behind him before Louis lets the tears he's been holding in slip out, creating hot tracks down his cheeks, and then finally let's the sleeping pills and Zayn's presence do their magic, and he falls into dreams of nothingness.

 ****

\- **  
**

Pity isn't necessarily all bad _all_ the time, Louis thinks. Sure, he hates when people use it directed towards him in sad manners with sentences starting like, _oh, you're_ that _poor boy_ , but there is one occasion where it comes in handy. The occasion being that Louis can use his not-even-a-fake excuse of anxiety and fear of public places and just unfamiliar people in general to not have to walk to and around campus to attend each of his classes this year, and instead get all his coursework sent directly to his flat. The only time Louis ever has to leave his flat for uni-related things is when he has to go in - when there’s no classes going on, obviously - and take the tests and quizzes they give out, which don’t happen often enough for Louis to stress too much over them.

And Louis is lucky that he picked a major - Psychology, because he’s good at dealing with fucked up minds and problems that aren’t his own - that he’s excelled in ever since he took a class of just that in his sixth form. So, Louis really has no struggle basically teaching himself all he needs to know now, if it means he doesn’t have to leave his flat. **  
**

The summer season is expelling out all the rest of itself with a slighty chilled mid-September rainstorm. It blends nicely with the strange yet soothing jabber of alt-J quietly echoing through the flat and serving as company as Louis copies down today’s notes on Galton. The boys are still at their classes which makes Louis alone in the flat and makes his anxiety spike just a bit higher than his usual level and Louis’ hand is cramping because he’s been furiously copying down notes for the past hour and a half, but he uses the pain radiating from his hand to distract him from his restless thoughts.

He jots down a few more pages of notes before he hears fumbling on the outside of the doorway, and if it weren’t for the telltale sound of the key fumbling it’s way through all the locks they have that tell Louis that one of the boys is back, then there’s no doubt Louis would already be on call with 999 and part-way through a panic attack. Louis continues to glance back and forth between from his textbook to his notes as he hears the heavy clunks that tell him it’s Liam that’s here, rather than the soft and graceful steps of Zayn. **  
**

Louis hears Liam take off his shoes and set them by all the other shoes by the door and hang up his coat, the sound of water splashing on the surface as Liam shakes the rain off of himself. He comes over to give Louis a quick kiss on the top of his head before swinging himself over the back of the couch to settle close to Louis. Liam’s hand comes to Louis’ back to rub up and down it gently, his socked feet kicking up to rest on the coffee table next to Louis’ book, and Louis knows Liam has his eyes closed and is “resting his eyes” as he likes to call it.

The only sound is hushed crooning coming from Louis’ iPod, and it’s all so warm and familiar, and if Louis could block out the rest of the world and the rest of his thoughts right now, he could say that, in this moment, he feels peaceful, maybe even content.

But then there’s a crack of thunder that Louis swears rattles their whole complex and a flash of lightning and combined with the way Liam is touching his back right now makes Louis remember a damp little concrete room with a little window in the corner above his head and the raindrops falling onto him and making him soaking wet after some time and his wrists and ankles develop the cold ache that feels all too much like chains, and Louis starts to tremble. He sets down his pen and falls back against Liam’s side, his eyes locked shut and his fists clenching and unclenching in Liam’s sweater as he struggles to remind himself to _breathe, in and out, in and out. **  
**_

He knows by the vibrations under his hands and the warm breath fanning over him that Liam is talking to him, probably trying to soothe him because that’s just what Liam _does_ , but Louis feels like he’s underwater and everything is coming in heavy and muffled and going out in sharp bursts of panic, settling into his body and taking root. **  
**

Louis brings his hands up to his ears and presses over them hard in attempt to block out all the noise around him and takes a deep breath and holds it in for a few seconds, trying to settle himself down. He releases it and repeats the motion a few times until he can feel his breathing slow down and the ache in his chest start to subdue. He keeps his hands over his ears as he waits for his body to calm itself down, listening to his heart beating fast. Louis opens his eyes and stares unfocusedly into the room, his body still shaking and his whole body throbbing.

Slowly, Louis brings his hands down from his ears and finally registers everything around him - one of Liam’s arms tight around his shoulders, the other carding through his hair, tucked in close. He finally hears Liam’s words that are too loud for the small flat and are bouncing off the walls and hitting his body, pounding against him from every side.

“Shh, shh, Louis, love, you’re okay, it’s _okay_ ,” Liam murmurs and even though they both know Liam is used to this by now, no amount of time spent with this could get rid of the concerned and scared panic that’s evident in Liam’s tone.

One hard squeeze does it for Louis. He clutches onto the fabric of Liam’s sweater tightly and burrows his head into his best friend’s chest. It’s Liam’s warmth, his strong body pressed against Louis’ and making him feel as safe as he’s able to feel that finally makes Louis push out the deep breath he’s been holding in, the one he’s been dreading to release from the walls of his body. He let’s himself entirely let go, sagging in Liam’s arms, crushed under them. The heavy comfort Liam is giving him is anchoring him and it’s what allows him to let a few of the tears he’s been holding in stream down his face at last. **  
**

“I’m sorry,” Louis whimpers quietly, blurry eyes wide open and staring closely at the thread of Liam’s sweater in attempt to block out the flashbacks.

Liam, thankfully, knows not to ask Louis why or to scold him for apologizing for what Liam believes he doesn’t need to and instead just makes his hold around Louis impossibly tighter, because he also somehow always know what Louis needs. “I know. It’s okay, I love you.”

Louis lets the words jump around in his head along with a string of _why why why_ and stays cuddled up as Liam eventually turns on the TV and they settle with watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns. No words or movements are exchanged, besides the occasional kiss to Louis’ hair that he’ll feel. The two remain like that until Zayn comes home about an hour later with takeaway from their campuses local Chinese place. **  
**

Zayn takes his place on the other side of Louis, and like they have since they were all in primary school, Zayn can sense that Louis is feeling a little uneasy - _really_ , when is Louis not feeling uneasy, though? - and presses himself just a little closer to the smaller boy and even gives him some of his prawns because Louis loves prawns and Zayn loves Louis.

Liam and Zayn hold casual conversation about their day between the two and Louis interjects only sometimes when they directly ask him a question, and this is typical for them. Liam and Zayn have joked around for years that Louis is like their kid, and it’s only become truer since the incident. If Louis thought they were protective and cuddly before, he had fucks idea what would be in store for him when he was Actually In Distress. Louis feels as though he should be a little more annoyed than he is, but he knows Liam and Zayn only have good intentions and God knows he’d be the exact same if they’d gone through what Louis had.

Louis is brought out of his internal session of compare and contrast between the takeaway noodles he’s eating and the intestines the surgeons on screen are roping out - because the only thing he can make out of anatomy is that humans are basically huge containers of noodles, _honestly_ \- when his ears catch on something Zayn says and Louis’ body tenses, just a bit.

“Didn't catch what you just said, say again?” Louis asks, feigning and hopefully pulling off the casual tone he was going for. His eyes had snapped up to meet Zayn’s and Zayn looks a little hesitant before repeating himself.

“I’m having a mate over here tomorrow,” Zayn says slowly because he knows just how terrifying it is for Louis to be around people he doesn’t know and why he hardly goes out and here he is, bringing in a total stranger into Louis’ one and only safe zone. Zayn continues despite Louis’ probable internal horror story. “Well, he’s not as much as a mate as he’s just some goofy kid in my Astronomy class that I got paired up with for a huge project. And he’s got a shitty telescope, and we have a really nice one out on the balcony, and we kind of _really_ need to do good on this project, so…”

Zayn trails off from his rambling and his eyes look nervous as he stares into Louis’ blank ones, silently pleading with him. And Louis kind of wants to cry, not so much because there will be newcomer in his flat tomorrow for who knows how long, but more so because he’s just so fucking _pathetic_. He gets told that his flatmate will be having someone over that any of them know, and it shouldn’t be that big of a deal because it isn’t, but Louis is scared to talk to his own bloody _Mum_ , for fuck’s sake. He’s on the edge of another panic attack because he’s stupid and weak and it’s moments like these where Louis really, truly hates himself.

Making sure to still keep his face lacking of emotion so the boys don’t see his inner turmoil and feel more guilty than they probably already feel, Louis gives out a soft sigh, turning his attention back to the TV screen and pretending he’s more interested in that than their topic of conversation. “Okay, then.”

He can feel both Zayn and Liam visibly relax on either side of him and attempt to do the same thing Louis is doing and acting as though it’s not a big deal. Louis’ self-hatred only increases when he feels Zayn’s lips being pressed against his temple, staying there as he murmurs, just to Louis. “Thank you, Lou. I’m sure he’s a good kid, but I promise you won’t be alone with him for a fucking _nanosecond_ , okay?”

Louis nods his head in acknowledgment and wills himself to focus on one of the characters dancing in her underwear, and _it’s okay_ , Louis repeats to himself as a reminder and an anchor to keep him from bursting out into panicked tears or passing out from fear or both.

It’s not like Louis hasn’t come into contact with anyone outside of Liam and Zayn in the past five months. He’s been to shops and on campus a few times and he’s not _always_ caged inside the flat. It’s just that no one other than the three who reside here have come _inside_ the flat. Over the months, Louis has come to create their flat into his safe haven, the place where he doesn’t have to worry as much. And it’s not like Louis doesn’t want or like to meet people, he’s almost 22 years old and he's not a bloody coward. He’s just scared of letting someone into his comforting illusion.

 _Just grow the fuck up already, Louis. Get yourself together. They’re allowed to have actual friends outside your pathetic little ass_ , Louis’ conscious spats at him. _Stop being so damn scared of every single thing all the time._

And that’s when Louis carefully extracts himself from in between Zayn and Liam, giving off a fake yawn and a small and hopefully convincing smile and telling them it’s time for him to hit the sack. They nod him off, both pulling him down to press butterfly kisses at the same time on either cheek to make him giggle. Louis feels loved but at the same time feels like a stupid little child who can’t even take care of himself without the help and reassurance of his friends, not his babysitters or his parents, but he walks off to the bathroom before he can let those thoughts taint the little spark of pleasantness any longer.

Louis leans over the sink and cups handful after handful of cold water up into his face for a long time. It’s like a constant game, this thing he does. But it’s the only thing he does - trying so desperately to distract himself from himself. He gets so caught up in the game that most of the time he doesn’t even realize that he’s trying to distract himself with pain until it’s over.

When Louis spits into the sink after he’s done brushing his teeth, there’s a little bit of blood mixed in with the minty froth, and Louis turns to walk straight into his bedroom, burrowing under his covers face down and forcing himself to sleep without a second thought about any of it. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think, please!


	3. Chapter 3

Louis startles awake around five a.m. the next morning, panting, his dingy tshirt clinging to his quivering body, the room feeling to hot, too cramped. It feels like there’s phantom limbs filling out every inch of the tiny space, packed against the walls, quiet whispers sounding like screams in Louis’ ears.

He brings his knees up to his chest and his hands up to his ears, both in a rigid hold. Louis feels his body tensing up more and more, the fear and pain filling up his body like ice cold water, letting the familiar feeling flood him up and drag him down. It’s all suffocating him, the hallucinations on the outside and the anxiety on the inside. His insides feel like they're freezing over but on the outside Louis’ burning, feels like hands made out of red hot branding irons are gripping him and tugging on him and touching him absolutely _everywhere._

With his hands tight around his ears to block out the whispers, all Louis can hear is his heart beating loud against his chest, an erratic sound that shakes him with every thump. His breaths are tearing out of him in rapid successions and Louis inhales deeply in a meager attempt to regain control of his body, but he can hardly get the air past the boulders in his throat.

The tears start to escape past his clenched eyelids, dripping down onto his bare knees as he rocks himself back and forth. Louis isn’t bothered by the scorching pain coursing through his body, instead he needs it as a reminder that he’s alive, that he’s still alive despite his body’s attempt and his mind’s wish at telling him otherwise. The pain is the only thing grounding him at the moment and he doesn’t know if that scares him or not, the realization that he’s so dependant on it to replace the dread that pulses through his veins.

He lets himself release a few quiet, painful screams against his knees before he concentrates on settling his breathing - _inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling_. After what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, Louis feels his body’s shudders grow less and less intense with each breath and the tension slowly seeps it’s way out. When he can finally breathe past the  crumbling lump in his throat, he’s dizzy just sitting down, and his eyelashes are wet from tears and sticking together.

It’s always harder for Louis to calm himself down after a bad dream, especially by himself, because it’s almost impossible for Louis to block out the fact that they’re not dreams, more like just memories that keep coming back to haunt him at every chance they get. He always has to give in to his horrors for it to go away, letting himself drown before he can attempt to swim to the surface again. To let his body fully remember, to replace the air in his body with anxiety and fear, to let himself sink down to the bottom. It’s the scariest part, the one of choosing to go down under in order to get back up again. The hesitation between the two, the lingering doubt if he'll ever come back up again.

After a few more minutes of regulated breathing, Louis comes back to. He flicks on his bedside table lamp to provide some comfort in the form of light and lays back against his pillows, staring at the patterns on the ceiling. He knows he could’ve just gone to Liam or Zayn and everything would’ve been resolved a lot more quickly, and he could’ve probably even gotten a few more hours of sleep since Liam doesn’t have his first class of the day until 9:30. But as much as Louis loves the constant love and support the two provide for him, he absolutely hates putting his burdens on them, and Louis does try to limit himself as much as he can.

Louis knows they worry about him, even when he’s sort of okay or not around, and Louis appriciates it more than he can even begin to think of. The three of them have been together through thick and thin and basically every situation since they all met on the first day of kindergarden. Louis knows Liam and Zayn would walk through hell or jump infront of a bullet for Louis without a moment’s hesitation, and Louis knows he’d do the exact same for them. But Louis also knows that there’s only so much he can put on them before they crack too, before they realize that Louis isn’t worth all the worry and struggling and they’ll finally leave him, and Louis would rather spend a half an hour trying to calm himself down from a panic attack rather than put anymore weight on their shoulders with the chance of them eventually leaving them.

Louis grabs his iPod from his bedside and plugs in his earbuds, Iron and Wine on the highest volume to block out the impending thoughts of you don’t deserve them and you’re not nearly worth it. He keeps his eyes all the way open and stared directly on the ceiling, eyes burning from the strain of not blinking in an attempt to keep the monsters under his eyelids out.

And he stays like that for hours, before he can vaguely hear the sound of Zayn shuffling out in the foyer before his morning class, probably making his bi-daily cup of coffee, black, because Zayn is really fucking cool like that, and eating an untoasted PopTart like he always does. Louis stays like that after his entire music collection of hundreds of songs loops back around to the beginning and he can hear Liam start to drag himself around and get ready. Louis stays like that for another hour after Liam leaves, the oily feeling of loneliness creeping up on him.

He hauls himself out of bed, vertigo hitting him immediatly and almost making him topple over. Louis snaps his eyes shut, fighting off the black and white stars that glint over the insides of his eyelids. One of his hands his gripping the bedside table as he regains his balance and Louis figures he should go eat something to replinish himself a bit.

Fortunately, the kettle is already full and brewed, so all Louis has to do is pour it into a mug and cup his hands around it, the warmth seeping from his hands and all the way throughout his body. He takes his place in one of the stools at the breakfast bar where Zayn’s second PopTart from this morning lays, soft and crumbly on the silver foil. Louis starts to nibble at it and sip at his Yorkshire in complete silence, and Louis can appreciate moments like these more than not.

Louis finishes his breakfast feeling snug on the inside but in need of a shower on the outside. He clambers back into his room to pull out a fresh pair of plain black boxers, thick socks, a large pair of sweatpants, and one of Liam’s footy sweatshirts from college. He lets the steam curl over the mirrors and lets the air get muggy before he starts to peel off yesterday’s sweats and hoodie and boxers, and then finally climbs into the shower.

The hot water unwinds the knots in Louis’ back as soon as he steps underneath it, and he tips his head back and closes his eyes to let it wash over his face and hair. He stays like that for a few minutes before he sluggishly washes himself up. There’s a large and fluffy towel waiting for Louis outside on the shower rack, and Louis wraps himself completely in it before sitting down on the floor of the bathroom, legs curled up. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply for a few minutes before he stands, knees cracking, and starts to dry off. Pulling his clothes on slowly, Louis’ eyes avoid the mirror he’s standing in front of, eyes downcast on the droplets of water dripping from the creaky tap. They drop in a rhythm that Louis can forget everything else and focus on, just for a few seconds.

He snaps out of it almost as instantly as he snaps into it, and suddenly his mouth is craving for the inhale of nicotine and tar. Louis rushes out of the steamy bathroom and ruffles around the flat for a pack of Zayn’s cigarettes since he hasn’t bought his own pack in a long time, and he hasn’t smoked for an even longer time, but he just _needs_ one. Or two. Or five. Or maybe a whole fucking pack.

In between the couch cushions is where Louis finds a full pack of Malboro’s and his body almost melts in relief. He grabs a spare lighter from the Drawer of Drugs and Other Miscellaneous Junk of Sorts and makes his way out to the tiny balcony that every flat in the complex has attatched to it. Louis make a spot for himself sitting next to Zayn’s fancy telescope that probably cost more than all the rent he’s ever payed, but Zayn aspires to be an _astronomer_ someday, so it’s okay.

Sliding his legs between the skinny metal rods that hold the railing on the balcony up to dangle them over the three stories below him, Louis lights up one of the crisp cigarettes. He inhales the smoke, letting it swirl around inside his throat before dropping down into the rest of his body and making him feel full of stars. Puffing and huffing, Louis inhales cigarette after cigarette for hours, and he doesn’t realize he’s smoked through the entire pack of 20 until he reaches down to grab another only to have it be totally empty.

Louis should probably feel a little worried that he’s smoked so much in such a little time after such a long time, and that Zayn will probably be upset at Louis for smoking all of his cigarettes, but Louis figures he’s going to die, anyway, and he can just give Zayn a few bucks to buy himself a new pack with.

He decides to stay out on the balcony for a while longer, because he really doesn’t feel like starting on his essay about Freud quite yet, and he internally scolds himself for not getting enough fresh air lately. The faint glow of the sun behind the clouds makes Louis’ skin feel warm. He swings his feet back and forth over the railing and watches as little specks of ash flick off them and down to the pavement below.

One of his hands comes up to absentmindedly pick at his chapped lips and he makes a mental note to text Liam and ask him to pick some chapstick up for him on the way home, because he's tired of having lips so rough they crack and bleed more than not. For the faintest second, Louis considers going out to the convenience store a few blocks down the street, but just the thought of that is enough to make his skin feel like there's tiny little bugs crawling around it. He takes a few deep breaths and tells himself that having a total and complete stranger over at his flat is enough strain on himself for one day, that at least he's attempting something.

He forces himself not to start freaking out about that because he doesn't feel like having a panic attack right now - not like he ever does, though. Instead, he hauls himself up from the concrete and grabs the empty cigarette carton and lighter. After he tosses out the box and puts the lighter back in it’s place, he then goes into his room and rummages around in the drawer in his bedside table for his iPhone. He finds it with a little victorious cry, holding down the button to power it on only to have it dead. Louis can’t remember the last time he’s actually used his phone, and he has even less of an idea on where the charger is, so he just goes out into the foyer to use Liam’s that’s hooked up on the kitchen counter instead.

While waiting for his phone to power back up, he snatches a painkiller, his meds, and a banana from their fruitbowl on the counter to soothe the slightly singed feeling in his throat. It probably definitely wasn’t a good idea to smoke that entire carton of cigarettes in one go all by himself, especially since he hasn’t been doing it regularly in over a year.

When he takes a bite of the banana and swallow and his throat literally feels like it’s burning, Louis seriously starts to consider whether or not he should be allowed of making liable decisions for himself.

Louis takes a long time to eat his banana, chewing and swallowing softly and slowly as not to cause anymore discomfort to it. He doesn’t even want to think what it’ll sound like when he tries to talk. His phone lights up to life as he’s finishing up his banana and he immediately starts to type up a text to Liam.

_hey pick me up some chapstick on your way home please and thanks love you xxx_

His phone buzzes with Liam’s response almost exactly after he presses the send button.

_kk u 2_

There’s a random acorn emoji after Liam’s response and it leaves Louis with a little fond smile on his face.

He spends the rest of his day chewing on his lips while he sits on the couch and watches whatever movie is in their DVD player and strenuously avoids on doing his coursework. Louis’ excuse is that he’s probably going to be under a lot of strain tonight with another and unfamiliar heartbeat under his roof of comfort, and he deserves to have a day off.

Louis doesn’t realize he’s dozed off until he hears the front door shut and Liam calling out to him. He mumbles out a sleepy reply and closes his eyes again before a tiny object is being dropped on his chest and rolling down his torso. His hands snatch for the tube shaped item before it can roll down to the floor and he gives a little squeal of both delight and relief when he realizes it’s a tube of chapstick.

“Thanks, babe,” Louis calls out to Liam, who’s rummaging around in the kitchen, probably to retrieve his leftover Chinese from the night before. Luckily, Louis’ voice doesn’t sound too rough from all those cigarettes, so Liam and Zayn won't over-worry about him too much about his returning habit now.

When Louis cracks open the tube and applies it to his aching and rough lips, he realizes it’s vanilla flavored and something akin to affection swells in his heart because Liam’s remembered his favorite flavor even after so long.

“It was no problem,” Liam replies. “I had to stop at the shop for some extra ink for my typewriter, anyway. Have to finish up my final copy of my story for tomorrow and I ran out last night.”

He plops down on the couch right next to Louis just like yesterday and slings the arm that isn’t holding his cold container of beef lo mein around Louis’ shoulders. And if Louis sinks back into his side and makes himself comfortable a bit because he’s anxious and his best friend’s arms ease that just a bit, well, then Louis and said best friend are the only ones who have to know.

His fingers tap out piano compositions he used to play way back when against Liam’s thigh as Liam tells him every single detail about his day in explicit detail. Louis knows Liam’s trying to distract him from freaking out about their visitor tonight, and Louis is too busy appreciating him to be annoyed or disappointed in himself.

Louis’ eyes keep glancing to the clock behind the TV to make sure he allows himself enough time to retreat to his bedroom before Zayn returns home with his mate. When there’s 10 minutes (Louis wants to be sure he can escape to his room with enough time, just in case Zayn decides to return home earlier than usual. It’s _not_ a fucking thing.) until Zayn usually comes back, he removes himself from Liam’s side and stretches out his limbs, each one making a satisfying pop as he does so.

He doesn’t turn back to look at the disappointed look he knows is on Liam’s face. “I’ll be room if you need me.”

But before he can even move an inch towards his bedroom, there’s gentle fingers that loops easily around his tiny wrist. Louis turns around with a wince and meets Liam’s slightly guilty eyes. The fingers on his wrist slides down to his own. “You know you can stay out here. They’ll be out on the balcony with the telescope, and you and I-”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Louis repeats with a little more force than needed before removing his fingers from Liam’s and turning back to get into his bedroom without a glance back.

He knows that was such a bitch move and that Liam definitely hadn’t deserved it, but, honestly, what the hell else did Liam expect him to react? Sure, it’s no big deal at all to Liam about having someone he’s never met, doesn’t even know the name of, over, but to Louis - it’s a very big deal. Liam should know by now that pushing Louis past his limits is almost as bad as having Louis actually deal with them.

Grabbing his laptop off he desks, he brings it and himself to his bed and shuffles his notes out of his bag next to it. He spends the next hour typing up his essay on Freud and listening to the sound of Death Cab for Cuties coming quietly through his laptop’s speakers.His fingers only stop their typing when he hears the ambiguous sound of Zayn returning home. There’s another pair of footsteps that are echoing through the flat and not a minute after they’ve returned, he vaguely hears the hum of deep voice and Liam’s own replying to it.

A hearty laugh booms out and mixes in with Liam and Zayn’s and it startles Louis into a little bought of shudders. He has to take a few seconds to regulate his breathing and to crack each individual finger for them to stop shaking so he can go back to typing his essay and filling his mind up with the lyrics that are pouring out into his room.

Louis continues those same notions for another hour and a half before his bladder decides it absolutely despises him, because suddenly Louis feels like he’s going to explode into a mess of urine and blood and guts all over the walls if he doesn’t empty it as soon as possible. He doesn’t exactly know for sure if Zayn’s visitor has left yet as he’s been too focused on the sound of his typing and his music to hear the sounds of him leaving.

For a quick second, Louis considers sending a quick text to Liam and asking him if the guy is still here, but his conscious shuts him down before he can think any further of it.

On one hand, Louis really needs to pee. But, on the other hand, if he goes out into the foyer to walk into the bathroom, he risks being noticed by one of the three and thus being forced to have some sort of first encounter with the visitor. Really, this shouldn’t be so much of a problem. And it shouldn’t even be a problem - Louis can deal with people he’s never met before.

What he _can’t_ deal with, though, are the looks he gets, when he meets a new person and they realize who he is. There’s two types of people; the first type, who, upon recognizing Louis, immediately turn their conversation down the pity route. They start to use those stupid _bloody_ voices of theirs, the ones they use with children who’ve scraped their knees, and they pretend like they’re not curious, like they don’t care for the details, so they ask questions that sound uninterested, but their questions are actually more invasive than not.

Then there’s the other ones. The ones who get sparks in their eyes when they match Louis’ face with the ones from old newscasts. They’re the ones who look Louis up and down with fervent and lustful eyes, because he’s just this pretty little twink who probably knows _so_ many tricks; that’s all he is to those type of people. To them, he’s an easy little gem who could be in their hands in a matter of seconds and who could show them the dream world.

Louis doesn’t know which one’s he despises more.

His conscious tells him to _just grow some fucking balls and go to the bathroom, how terrible would it all be, anyway?_

So, that’s what Louis does - he locates his balls and takes a few deep breathes before heaving himself off the bed. He creaks open his door as quietly as he can as to not call attention to himself. From his view down the small hallway, he can’t see anything except for the kitchen as the living room and the balcony and the other boys’ rooms are around the corner from the hallway, and Louis definitely isn’t going to step out into the foyer just to see if they’re out there.

The bathroom is literally only three yards away from where Louis is standing in his doorframe right now. He quickly dashes to his destination and is about to step into the bathroom when broad figure bumps into him and large hands reach out to steady him, the figure letting out a raspy, _whoops!_

Louis’ eyes snap up to the tall and lanky character and _hey, he’s kind of beautiful_ , Louis thinks at first glance, with his chocolate curls and radiant green eyes that have just a dash of bashfullness in them. There’s a blush on the boys unusually pale cheeks, and his full, pink lips are opening up to say something when Louis’ body finally realizes that this guy is fucking touching him, and Louis starts to shake.

“God, I am _so_ sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going,” the boy says, a sheepish smile gracing his face. He speaks through a slow, raspy, drawl, each word tasted on his tongue before spoken. “Are you alright, mate?”

But Louis can’t even hear what the guy is saying, because he doesn’t know who he is and his huge hands are holding onto Louis, one on his shoulder and one on his waist, and they’re so close Louis can hear the guy’s heartbeat.

His own is threatening to beat out of his chest, and Louis averts his eyes that are starting to become watery, and his throat is thick and he’s having trouble breathing, and he shakes himself out of the guy’s grip and turns back into his room and one quick motion. He faintly hears the boy drawling out a long and confused um before Louis is sliding down his closed door and he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them as he drags them closer to his body.

He let’s his head fall on top of them and pushes into his forehead until he can feel the slightest bit of pain, a faint bruise being made. His breathing is coming out in quick little bursts, and he can feel his body starting to tighten up, and he’s drowning again, because _the guys' hands were on him._

Louis doesn’t know what happened outside his door, but suddenly there are a pair of hands that are quietly yet forcefully knocking on it, and it scares Louis enough that his tears start to leak out of his eyes at a rapid and unyielding pace because _oh, dear God, the guy is coming to take him away._

But then Zayn’s worried voice is floating past the door. “Love? It’s me. Please just tell me if you’re alright.” His voice is reserved, as if it’s only meant for Louis’ ears, but those ears can also hear the sort of strained and sort of tensed sound of Liam repeating _what the fuck did you_ do _to him?_ and he blocks out the bewildered reply from the stranger because he doesn’t want to remember his voice in any way.

And Louis doesn’t even know if they guy knows who Louis is, doesn’t know if he’s watched the news or seen the headlines in the past six months at all, and he can say that Liam and Zayn don’t either, so that’s most likely why they’re trying to interrogate the guy without giving Louis all away or totally humiliating him by causing a maybe unecssary scene, just in case there’s a chance that the guy actually doesn’t know who Louis is.

Louis does know, though, that if he doesn’t reply to Zayn, then he will break down his bedroom door (again) just to make sure Louis’ okay. So Louis tries to swallow past the lump in his throat and eventually chokes out a croaky _fine, I’m fine_ , when he’s quite the opposite.

And Zayn probably knows that Louis is, in fact, not fine, but he still hears the sigh of relief coming from the boy on the other side of the door. He can’t hear Liam or the visitor anymore and he doesn’t know if Zayn has left, too, either.

As much as Louis doesn’t want to admit, he really kind of hopes the boys aren’t giving the guy too much of a hard time right now. It’s not like he actually _put his hands_ on Louis, he just did it in a way because they had literally knocked right into each other and the other guy didn’t want Louis to fall over. This is what Louis keeps internally repeating to himself to get his breathing under control and to get the fire out of his body.

Eventually, Louis’ body finally starts to cooperate and he can breathe again, gulping in huge gusts of it until he feels like he’s full to the brim with fresh air. His hands are still trembling a bit, and he brings them up to his cheeks to wipe the tears out of them and his eyes.

Louis sits there, with his back against his door and his knees still pulled against his chest and his mind a constant stream of _in and out, in and out, in and out_. He stays like that until he hears to sets of hands knocking at his door, and Louis shuffles to the side of it so they come in. They do, and immediately are crouched at his side - fingers running through his dried fringe and over his shoulders and down his back.

They don’t bother to ask Louis if he’s okay, because they know he’s not, or at least he wasn’t a few minutes ago. Liam is the one who cuts right to the chase.

“Did he touch you, Lou?” he murmurs, soft, but with an undertone that tells him he isn’t going to take any of Louis’ bullshit. “Because he said you two just knocked into each other on the way to the loo, and he didn’t _really_ seem like he knew who you were, but-”

“He told the truth,” Louis says quietly, voice rough from all his tears and all his cigarettes. He clears his throat before speaking again, a thin layer of self-hatred coating his words. “That’s all that happened, but me being me, I just overreacted.”

Both Liam and Zayn let out audible sighs of relief at that, and their hands on him let up just a little.

“Okay,” Zayn speaks, plopping down right beside Louis and throwing an arm around the middle of his back, his hand that’s curled around his waist stroking at it softly. Liam settles on the other side of him and keeps his hand carding through Louis’ hair. “Figured he was telling the truth. I haven’t known the kid long, but he seems all too much like a gentle giant type more than anything-”

“But sometimes looks can be deceiving,” Liam finishes quietly and it makes Louis flinch. “And it’s okay that you reacted this way, Lou. It’s a more than normal reaction for someone who’s gone through what you have.”

“And even though you freaked out a bit over it, that doesn’t mean you’re weak or pathetic and it doesn’t mean we’re any less proud of what you’ve overcome over the months.” Zayn’s words are softly spoken but they go right to Louis’ heart. “‘Cause we are so proud of you, love. Even if you're not proud of yourself.”

“You’re trying to recover, and that’s all we could ever want for you,” says Liam. When Louis glances over at him, he sees a small smile and a touch of pride in his eyes. “You’re doing so well, and no one’s expecting you to just mend right away.”

 _Except for basically everybody_ , Louis thinks bitterly. He keeps his mouth shut and gives a little nod like he agrees with them.

That night, Liam and Zayn snuggle up on either side of Louis in his bed, all their arms tangled around each other, and Louis feels as though this is the closest to safe that he’ll ever feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i'm definitely moving a lil too fast with this storyline and all but i jUST want to get to the good parts ugh!!!!! sorry. anyway. hope you all enjoyed! :D


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Louis does all his coursework out in the living room as he likes to spice up his life sometimes. He’s been compulsively studying for a test he has in a few days in his Statistics class, because weird statistical techniques are just a little bit harder to teach himself than Pavlov’s theories.

He reads over and over his pages of notes and tries _very_ hard to not think about the trip down to his class on campus he’ll have to make in a few days, but he tells himself that at least he doesn’t have to go down there every day or every other day like basically all the other students. It's convincing enough time get him by with only minimal problems.

It’s around three in the afternoon when Louis hears the sound of the key scrambling through all five of their front door locks (Louis is a little paranoid. Only a little.). He remembers that it’s Wednesday, so that means Zayn only had his two hour AP Physics class today that started at one, so he’s not too surprised when he sees Zayn waltz through the front door.

What does surprise Louis, though, is the extra set of steps and the rough and raspy voice that latched onto him yesterday. Louis’ eyes had snapped towards the door to greet Zayn, but instead of having his eyes come into contact with his best friend’s, he’s instead staring into eyes that probably have an entire forest in them.

There’s the telltale aftermaths of a laugh on his face - flushed cheeks, sparkly eyes - and _the kid has fucking dimples_ , Louis’ voice hisses dejectedly. And the sparkle in the boy’s eyes only increases when he makes eye contact with Louis, but instead of it being the lustful kind of sparkle that Louis is used to making his skin feel dirty, it’s just an innocent little happy smile, like he’s _happy_ to see Louis again.

He can hear Zayn call to the boy from the kitchen, asking him if he wants anything to drink or eat, and his emerald eyes drifting from Louis’ as he calls back _nothing, thanks._

The boy is walking towards where Louis’ sat at the couch until he’s two yards away, and Louis kind of wants to puke.

But, to Louis’ surprise, their eyes cease to make contact again as the taller boy looks down at his pigeon-toed and socked feet, his cheeks turning his cheeks a light pink. There’s still a small smile on his face, but it’s more bashful, now. His hands are behind his back and he looks like a little boy who’s about to confess a schoolyard crime to his Mum.

He clears his throat before looking back up to meet Louis’ eyes, and it’s a gunky sound that makes Louis give a little flinch without thinking about it. But, surprisingly enough, Louis isn’t actually frightened by the seeming-offensive sound, more of just an instant reaction to loud noises.

“I’m, um, _really_ sorry about literally bumping into you yesterday. I was too busy looking at my phone to see you,” Both of their blushes only intensify at that and Louis finally has the will to break eye contact and look at his own hands instead.

There’s a large hand with long fingers decorated in rings right in front of his face before he can think he’s being pitied again. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”

Louis tries to pull himself together before looking back up at Harry and replying, “Louis Tomlinson. We can skip the handshake, if that’s alright,” Louis laughs weakly, self-deprecatingly. He was aiming for casual, but his voice rings unsteadily and combined with his freak attack yesterday, he figures the guy already knows how weird Louis is.

Harry’s hand retreats back behind his back and so does his dimple, a bit, much to Louis’ sudden disappointment.

There’s a beat of awkward silence that passes between them as they stare at each other, but thankfully, that’s right when Zayn decides to make his appearance.

“Hey, Lou,” Zayn says, coming over to Louis and pressing a small kiss to his hair. There’s a small bit of _I’m really sorry I forgot to mention that the guy who provoked you into a panic attack last night was coming over again today and not giving you the chance to prepare yourself_   in his eyes.

Louis feels a little bad that his friend’s actually have to worry about simple things like this when having their mates over. He portrays his forgiveness in a small smile and he tries to sweeten his thoughts as he goes back to going over his notes. “Hey, babe. How was class?”

Zayn tells Louis about his thrilling escapade across campus and inside his classroom through breaks of apple chewing as he takes a seat next to Louis on the couch. Louis makes attentive noises at the appropriate times to let Zayn know he’s listening, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Harry take a seat on the other side of the coffee table on the floor.

Louis sneaks a glance at Harry while he continues to listen to Zayn speak, and he sees that Harry’s eyes are already glued on his face. Louis feels his face heat up when he gets caught in the process of catching Harry in his own act, and his face is probably the same shade of red that Harry’s is right now, except a hundred times less attractive.

Both of their eyes train back downwards as Zayn remains animatedly oblivious in his storytelling, and Louis tucks his head down but peeks underneath his fringe too look back at Harry and watch him watch Zayn speak. Harry’s eyes are trained on Zayn’s mouth at a quick pace and he’s got a small grin on his face as Zayn gets to a funny part (or at least, what Louis assumes is a funny part, as he is too busy being a creep to hear what Zayn is actually saying).

His bottom lip is between his teeth as if he’s trying to hold back his smile from growing bigger and Louis notices that mane of curls almost topples down all the way to his shoulders. Louis starts to feel that familiar ball of nerves start to form in his tummy, but it’s different almost, because Louis doesn’t feel frightened by Harry’s presence, if anything, he feels flustered by it, and Louis doesn’t know what to make of that.

He lets out a quiet breath and trains his eyes back down to his notes and tries to tell himself this won’t pan out as badly as his mind is telling him it will as Zayn finishes his snack and his story and the two make their way out to the balcony to work on their project.

-

Harry is over at their flat everyday for a week and a half after that, working with Zayn mostly outside on the balcony but occasionally inside. And in those 10 days, Louis stayed out in the main room for six of them while Harry was over, and in the four days he hid out in his room in his usual state of anxiety, Harry would knock on his door and call out a greeting to him and Louis would reply without _too_ much trouble.

He considers that a small triumph in his personal progress.

And, just within the first three days of meeting Harry and the in-all total of 20 minute conversation they’ve had, Louis’ come to realize a few things. One, either Harry truly _doesn’t_ know who he is, or he’s an excellent actor - but with the way the boy seems to display every single one of his emotions on his sleeve like it’s no big deal, makes Louis lean towards the former.

The first fact erases a good amount of the worries and issues Louis had about Harry. Even though Harry is basically just an acquaintance to him, Louis still finds it just a little bit more easier to breathe around him - knowing he doesn’t know about Louis and all his dirty little not-so secrets.

Secondly, Louis learns that Harry talks, like, a lot. Within the second day of their first encounter, Louis, as well as Zayn and Liam, obviously, have found out that Harry is in his second year of university as a 20 year old, 21 on the first of February, and he used to reside at a university about five hours away for his first year. He’d stayed with his sister, Gemma, working all the way throughout his first year to save up enough money to move on down to this school, one he’s always dreamed of going to, apparently, and he now lives in an on-campus dorm with a boy named Niall - who’s only details Louis’ gathered being that he’s very blonde and very Irish and very much likes laughing and alcohol.

Louis doesn’t understand how someone can just be so open about the details of his life like Harry is, especially with people he’s just met. Harry acts like he’s known the three of them for few years rather than a few days, and Louis kind of envies the easiness and simplicity that Harry has.

Harry reminds Louis of how he used to be, before the incident, and the fact leaves a bitter taste on his tongue with just a hint of remorse. He remembers how loud he used to be, how friendly and cheerful and sarcastic and witty, how almost everyone Louis would meet would fall in love with him almost instantly. He grew up being known as the class clown, and when he reached university, the party animal.

Harry’s straightforward and lively nature makes Louis long for the person he used to be, and maybe that’s why Louis can’t seem to stop thinking about him.

-

Louis is about halfway through a bottle of red wine and on his second bag of Hershey Kisses when his phone buzzes with a text from Zayn.

_hey lou my test is running way late so i wont be home for at least another hour but h is already on his way over sorry i love you youll be ok_

It takes a while for Louis’ hazy brain to process the text - and honestly, it’s only one in the afternoon and he probably shouldn’t be this drunk already, but Louis hasn’t drank in so long, so what the fuck ever - but once he does, he’s surprised that he doesn’t feel all that panicked as he usually is. Maybe it’s the wine that’s making the edges of his anxiety all soft and fuzzy, or maybe it’s the fact that Harry is about intimidating as a newborn fawn, but Louis actually finds himself a little eager for Harry’s company. Louis’ accepted that Harry is probably just a normal lad, and in all honesty, Louis feels as though him and Harry could grow to be actual friends someday.

And maybe that thought makes Louis smile, just sometimes and only a smidge, but that’s only because for the past five and a half months, Louis’ only friends, really, have been Zayn and Liam. Sure, he used to have a whole group of friends he could call up and hang out with, no problem, and even a group of mutuals that would go to a bar with him if he asked, but he hasn’t even attempted to try and rekindle anything with them after the incident.

Louis hadn’t realized how desperate he was for new company who he could be even the least bit comfortable around until he was given the opportunity for it.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by a knock on the door of shave and a haircut and it makes him unravel himself from his cocoon of blankets and shove all the candy wrappers from the couch onto the coffee table. There’s the smallest of smiles on his face when he peers into the door’s peephole and sees Harry standing there in a hoodie and a pair of what looks like black jeggings, his bag slung over one of his shoulders and his dark curls resting softly on his shoulders.

There’s a small smile adorning Harry’s face, just enough to have his dimple present, and Louis tries very hard not to think how good he looks as he opens up the door.

Harry’s smile only brightens when Louis steps aside and gestures for him to come in, toeing off his black ankle boots near all their other shoes. “Hey there, Lou.”

Louis goes back over to the couch and grabs the red wine, taking a swig straight from the bottle. The alcohol makes his syllables stumble pleasantly over each other on their way out of his mouth. “Hey, mate.”

Harry settles on the furthest cushion away from Louis on the couch, because he knows the unspoken rule that Louis doesn’t like to be too close. Louis watches Harry as his eyes slide over the half-full bottle of wine in Louis’ hands and over to all the candy foils on the coffee table and back up to Louis with a mix of amusement and surprise in his eyes.

Louis hands him the bottle wordlessly as Harry takes a generous sip before giving it back to Louis. He grabs a Kiss from the bag on the couch and fiddles with the foil before he speaks in his slow voice, “So, when’s Zayn going to be back, exactly? He never really told me what was up, just that he wouldn’t be here when I got here…”

“His test is just running a bit late, I think,” Louis replies, voice thicker than normal and a little heavy from all the alcohol his body is currently relearning to handle after so long without it.

Harry’s response consists of a tiny pout behind a mouth full of Hershey.

The two boys sit together in mostly silence on the couch as America’s Next Top Model reruns on the telly in front of them. Occasionally, one of them - mostly only Harry - will make a small comment about a detail from the show, like a model’s pose or their hair or Tyra Banks’ butt. Louis stays curled up in his corner of the couch but giggles along, cuddling his bottle of wine, as Harry launches into animated stories about one of his remarks.

Louis is just about done with filling Harry in about two boys who had hooked up together in the house the previous season when there’s a brief two seconds of silence in the room. Louis fills it by taking another few gulps of his wine and then Harry is speaking with curiosity in his tone.

“So, how long have you and Zayn been together?”

And, of course, the wine in Louis’ throat at the exact time of the question triggers him into a small choking fit. He exaggeratedly pounds one of his tiny fists on his chest while he splutters and coughs into his knees. “ _What?”_

When Louis looks over to Harry’s face to see if he’s joking or not - and it’s so obvious he’s not by the way he looks at Louis like he wants to either laugh in his face or pat the last of his hacks out of his back - Louis ends up bursting into laughter instead, because _what the hell?_

Louis is laughing, almost manically, and he tries to hold this feeling to him for as long as he can, because he’s hardly even laughed, let alone this much and so genuinely, in so fucking long, and it feels like the good-kinds-of fireworks are exploding in his chest.

He can hear Harry’s confused chuckles beside him die down as his do, too. Louis raises his eyebrows jokingly at Harry as he feels an amused expression take over his face. “My God, Harry, where the bloody _hell_ did you get the idea from that Z and I are together?”

It’s almost comical - the way Harry’s eyes widen into saucers and his mouth falls open into a great, big _O_ , a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. “Oh, I-um, sorry. I just, uh, kind of assumed by the way you guys always act around each other and all that other stuff.”

And the accusation hardly even bothers Louis because it’s also not the first time a question along these lines have come up before. Louis figures he can’t blame people for constantly thinking him and his best friend’s are in a relationship by the way they act so carelessly and touchy-feely with each other. Louis makes sure to keep that little smirk on his face as he rolls his eyes and scoffs lightly.

“Nah, mate, it’s alright for thinkin’ that. You’re not the first, and probably certainly not the last,” Louis teases gingerly as one of his legs unravels to stretch across the couch and jab his socked-toe into the side of Harry’s ribs. Harry shies away with a little giggle at the touch and Louis stores the information of Harry’s ticklish spots for later use as he continues, “But, popular to contrary belief - we’re not dating. We never have, I hope to hell we never will, to be honest, and same goes for Liam, too. We’re all just best friends, is all.”

Harry visibly relaxes back into the couch cushion, the anxious bounce of his legs from the thought of upsetting Louis in anyway - and _seriously_ , Louis thinks this boy is probably some hybrid cross between a giant teddybear and an angel. He should be annoyed but he’s instead just hopelessly endeared. - coming to a halt.

The pink tint on Harry’s cheeks is still there when he next opens his mouth. “Sorry, again. Honestly, I was just about to comment on how cute of a relationship it was you had there and gush about how much I wish I had my own like that.”

He ends his sentence with a slight chuckle, his teeth bit down on his bottom lip while he bashfully twiddles with the foil from one of his Kisses.

Louis scoffs again, but this time softer. “Reckon that dream of yours wouldn’t be too hard to obtain, taking your stupid charm and your stupid curls into account,” Louis watches as Harry’s cheeks flush back to red again and he continues. “You probably have all sorts of types gnawing at each other for a chance to kiss your feet."

“Not true,” Harry replies, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a small, faux-offended pout when he looks back at Louis, whose only response to that is cock his eyebrow while he takes another swig of his slowly-dwindling bottle of wine. “Okay, _well_ , maybe I do have a few people who flirt with me a little more than I’d expect or more than I should, honestly. But somehow, I’m still in solitary and have been for about a year and a half.”

He says that with a tad bit of bitterness in his tone, and Louis is too taken-aback by the statement to think too much about it. “ _Seriously?_ You haven’t been with someone in that _bloody_ long?”

 **  
** And Louis doesn’t know why he’s so astounded by this, considering he himself hasn’t been with anyone in a little longer than Harry has. But, while Louis has a legitimate excuse, he can’t seem to find a reason as to why someone as lovely as Harry hasn’t found someone to appreciate that in so long.

“I mean, I’ve had a few overly-friendly friends over this time, but none of them have ever caught my eye enough to have a chance of lasting more than the expected month or so,” Harry says simply, like they’re discussing the weather for tomorrow rather than his impromptu love life. “And I’m not really one for, like, flings and stuff like that. I don’t like to get close to someone in that way unless I think it’ll go far. Guess I just haven’t found the right guy to fill that spot, yet.”

Louis tries with all his might to ignore the way Harry’s voice got all soft when he said the word _guy_ ; because Louis may not be good at most things, but one thing he considers himself a professional in is falling for gorgeous and/or sweet gay guys that he tricks himself into thinking he has some sort of chance with, only to be let down by them, or more commonly, himself.

He uses the socked-foot that’s still resting on the couch next to Harry’s to give it a sympathetic tap. “I get what you’re saying, mate - I really do. I think it’s pretty cool of you to be like that. I am, too, ‘cept it’s not as cool of me.”

Louis’ reply pulls a laugh out of the both of them and makes Harry reach for the bottle of wine that Louis’ cradling in the crook of his arm like it’s a baby. Louis hands it over, albeit grudgingly, and watches as Harry tips it back to take a bit of it, the corners of his mouth still turned upwards into a small smile.

Harry hands the bottle back to Louis after another sip, waggling his eyebrows at Louis as he starts to speak, “So, what about you, Lou? Anyone special you’re sendin’ your nudes to in the middle of the night?”

A tiny chuckle escapes Louis’ lips and one of his hands comes up to cover his mouth as well as his heating cheeks. “Nah. Haven’t had a proper boyfriend in even longer than you have.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise 10% in surprise and 90% in challenge. He, thankfully, doesn't comment on the fact that Louis basically just told him he likes cock, and that helps Louis’ mind stop stressing just a bit. “How long has it been for you?”

“Since my last real relationship? A little over two years. A year and a half since my last date.”

The way Harry’s eyes bulge to their fullest extent would make Louis laugh if his anxiety wasn’t slowly creeping up on him. “Really? _How?_   You’re, like, easily one of the most attractive guys I’ve ever come across - how could you not have had _anyone_ for two years?”

And Louis’ cheeks don’t warm up a bit more than they already were at the lie, nope. Not at all. “Shut up. I’ve been...occupied.” To say the least.

Once again, Harry seems to sense that this conversation is heading into restricted and uncomfortable territory for Louis, so instead of bringing it up again, he instead pops another Hershey Kiss into his mouth, turning his attention back to the episode of America’s Next Top Model that’s still playing on the television. He rolls his eyes jokingly and a small smirk to match develops on his face as he glances from the corner of his eye at Louis.

“So, Eva’s new, bleached blonde weave. Yay or nay?”

The change in topic makes the knot that formed in Louis’ chest melt a bit into a puddle of subtle gratitude. And Louis thinks that maybe this is a good thing - being friends with Harry. Because unlike almost every other person Louis associates with, when they’re not gently hammering him for more and more information, even if they can see it’s obviously bugging Louis to do so, or they finally see that it is and so they stop but it still never stops making Louis feel like they’re pitying him, in the way that they’re ever-so gentle with him - Harry just stops.

Louis is proved further as to why he knows Harry is good company to keep around.

The two continue to sit there and watch the show in surprisingly-but-not-so-surprisingly silence until Zayn comes home half an hour later with a box of pizza from Louis’ favorite pizza parlor down the street. Zayn settles on the cushion between Louis and Harry and the two lightly make fun of Louis for being _that_ one person who eats their pizza with _‘bloody pineapple, Lou, on pizza, that’s an absolute disgrace to pizza’s all around the world’._

And Louis doesn’t like to be ganged up on so instead he tells Zayn about how Harry thought the two of them were in a relationship, and how he was actually _jealous_ of the relationship he thought they had, and that gets Zayn back on Louis’ side where he belongs as the two then start to tease Harry while the victim himself sits there with a petulant and sheepish smile on his face, defending himself but to no avail.

It’s an afternoon well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i suck at endings yeEeeEEEeeEeeeeEe sorry. also, thanks for all the kudos and all that shiz this has gotten so far! it means a lot. you are all very lovely folks.


	5. Chapter 5

“Fuck,” Louis curses under his breath, his phone being clenched in his now-tremoring fists and tears springing to his eyes because of fucking course this would happen to him, because the world really hates him and everything he stands for. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

It’s a night later and, as per usual, Louis is settled on the long couch in between Zayn and Liam. Harry is curled up all soft and sweet in a hoodie and sweatpants, his curls tucked into a beanie and giving off the occassional drousy sneeze or coughing fit as the rain pours down outside. He had come here to work on his and Zayn’s project like they’ve been doing for the past two weeks, but today the two boys were forced to take shelter inside as the it had started raining too hard for them to see any of the starry night sky with a wet telescope lense.

None of the boys were going to let Harry walk all the way back to his dorm in this weather, - the lad had been sick all day and that walk was bound to make him even worse than he already was, no questions about it - and none of them also have enough willpower and energy to get up and _drive_ him back with the only car they have that’s so low on gas and other Important Car Necessities to actually work most of the time, so they instead forced him to stay in the dry, warm comfort of their little flat - at least until the rain calmed down.

There’s a storm creating all types of havoc outside, Harry is sick and still here, and Louis’ life, as usual, is probably falling apart, again, because the world really fucking hates him.

Hearing Louis’ distressed curses from beside him, Liam looks over to him from the movie that’s playing on the telly, a glint of curiosity but mostly worry in his big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Everything okay, Lou?”

Liam speaks quietly as to not disturb the other two boys who are still engrossed in the rome-com except Louis’ mind is too busy screaming at itself to recognize Liam’s sound level. He turns in his seat to look at Liam with slightly frantic eyes. Louis’ hands are still shaking as he speaks. “No, I- _fuck_ , Li, do you and Z have that huge Trig exam of yours tomorrow, or was that next Friday?”

Louis hadn’t even tried to be quiet, probably couldn’t be even if he tried right now, because he’s about _this_ close to losing it. By this time, he knows Zayn and Harry have already tuned into their conversation - he can feel two extra set of eyes on him and it kind of makes his skin crawl.

“Yeah, that’s tomorrow at noon,”  Zayn says slowly, like he’s talking to a wounded animal and he’s trying not to startle it so it won’t attack. “Why? What’s up?”

“What’s _up_ is that I just got a reminder email from my professor and I have to go in and take that fucking Stats test tomorrow at the same time as your own,” Louis says. It comes out angry but it’s not because he’s angry at Liam or Zayn for not being able to escort him to and from his testing room tomorrow, but because Louis is 21 years old, he’s a fucking _adult_ , yet he still has to have someone be with him while he goes in to take a test because his anxiety is so bad it makes him socially inept and vunerable.

Zayn’s eyes widen and he can feel Liam stiffen beside him, just a bit. “ _Shit_ , Lou. Ours is mandatory - can you just reschedule yours or something?”

“‘fraid not, since it would be the third time I’ve done it for this test alone and my professor is getting all bitchy about it,” Louis’ voice shakes. There’s a quick flash of a reminder in the back of his head that reminds him there’s another person in here, a person who isn’t fully aware of Louis’ stupid, stupid problems, but Louis is too occupied with trying to remember how to breathe to even care.

He figures Zayn and Liam start to stress-talk over Louis’ head like they usually do, but Louis is then sitting with his head between his legs, his arms crossed behind them as he gently rocks himself and repeats to himself, _in and out, in and out_. He can’t hear a fucking thing but he can feel a warm, familiar hand drawing up and down his spine, so he tries to pull himself together to save just a bit of his sanity.

Louis shifts himself so he’s instead sitting up against the back of the couch, his hands wringing in his lap and his head tilted all the way back to face the ceiling with closed eyes. He’s still coaching his own breathes to distract his wayward thoughts from wandering into the dangerous territory that’s right around the corner. Liam and Zayn are still trying to talk solutions across from him and Louis still isn’t listening to a word they’re saying. Harry is still silently observing until he’s not anymore.

“I-um. I could, like, go with him to his test,” he speaks slowly, unsurely, and all the other three heads snap to his bemused but sweet face.

And the absolute last thing Louis wants to do is drag another person into the fucked up part of his life, and Louis is shaking his head before the last word is even out of Harry’s mouth. “No, absolu-”

“That would be great, actually,” Liam inturupts, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Louis feels Zayn’s hand creep to his own to link their pinkies, a silent plea to not object and to trust them and to let them try and fix this tiny problem of his, _just_ this once.

“Yeah, H, it really would be,” Zayn smiles at Harry like he’s just solved all the world’s problems. “Thank you so much, _shit_.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s really no problem at all. I have no classes tomorrow, anyway, so I’d just be spending my day sat in my room and watching Niall drink himself half to death, again.” His eyes slide over to meet Louis’ and his mouth turns upward into a dimply smile when their eye contact remains.

Louis feels like he should feel much more embarassed than he is right now, but Louis knows that Harry already knows that Louis is pretty bloody strange with problems to match, so instead he just let’s the bucket of gratitude that’s been filling up since he’s met Harry spill over a bit and drip on him.

Zayn’s pinky squeezes his own as Louis speaks, “Thank you, Harry.”

Louis’ words were spoken softly with little to no emotion in them as his mind continues in it’s attempts to reel itself back up to the surface, but he hopes his appreciativeness is still evident enough for Harry to really get it.

It’s shown in the way Harry’s smile seems to widen and the glitter in his eyes intensifies that he does.

-

Louis hates the way he’s up that night until 3 a.m. with his mind ridden with (this time unecessary) anxiety.

 _Honestly_ , he doesn’t know why his brain is making his body feel so typically out of tune about this. Louis got what he wanted - he has someone walking with him to his test, staying there while he takes it, and then walking him back to his flat. And it’s not just any someone, he keeps trying to tell himself - it’s a friendly and polite boy who even though he’s only known for a few weeks, he finds that he is well on his way to truly trust him, or at least consider him a friend.

Since the incident, Louis hasn’t made any new friends or even attempted to keep in contact with any of his old ones besides Liam and Zayn. And the only reason those two are still around is because they live together and they’ve been best friends since the days of nappies and plastic toys and Liam and Zayn absolutely _refused_ to let go of Louis.

So, that being said, Louis isn’t all too good with the whole friend thing or with the whole trust thing. But Harry is different from anyone else Louis’ ever encountered in his life, no matter how much he tries to ignore that fact. Harry is gentle yet clumsy, caring yet not invasive, whimsical yet he doesn’t cross any lines. He’s a stray flower petal drifting in the spring wind personified and Louis is pretty convinced that Harry doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body. The only thing threatening about him is the way he chews his food is like a lawn mower, if that can even be considered something to be cautiously frightened of.

He’s the most golden-hearted person Louis’ ever met and he has no idea who Louis actually is, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it because even though no one’s ever told him, he’s figured out that some things are better left being unsaid and thus unknown when it comes to Louis and All His Touchy Subjects. Harry cares, that’s obvious, but he doesn’t care that he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Louis, and he acts like he doesn’t care to know, either, and for that Louis has endless amounts of thanks in his heart for that boy.

Louis doesn’t even care that he’s only known Harry for hardly two weeks - he knows he probably has something akin to trust in him more for Harry than people he’s known for years. Harry’s the type of person you trust to watch your kids at the last minute, the type to walk a you home to your house on a late night and not make a move, just to make sure you're safe. He volunteers at an animal shelter whenever he has the time to and he spends more time baking than breathing.

Even Zayn and Liam, who basically act as Louis’ parental figures and would murder anything that made him the least bit upset and hardly trust anybody with him, trust Harry so undoubtedly and are already such good friends with him that they just let him - hell, they encouraged him - take care of Louis in this small way when they’re not able to.

So Louis really doesn’t know why his mind in this vicious whirlwind this time when he rationally, he can’t find a single problem in the plan they’ve made. Louis’ test is at noon on the dock and Harry will be picking Louis up at his flat before 11:30 so they can make the predicted 15 minute walk to Louis’ testing building, just to make sure they make it on time, because Louis absolutely cannot risk pissing off his professor any more than he already has. Louis will take his test and then Harry will walk him home and let home not be metaphorically (or non-metaphorically, Louis thinks. Anything is bound to happen in Louis’ world.) assault him or harm him in anyway.

And not because Harry pities Louis and wants to protect him like he’s a tiny, incapable child who doesn’t know what to do in any situation, but because that’s just who Harry is.

That’s what Louis keeps echoing through his mind with the background image being of the ocean’s waves in his desperate attempt to calm his mind down so he can sleep. And eventually, Louis’ mind detatches from the bad and instead becomes one with the saltwater waves that are calmy crashing against the inside of Louis’ skull, and Louis falls asleep wishing it were all that easy.

-

Louis’ alarm goes off at 10:45 the next morning.

He quickly but sufficiently takes a shower to ease the remaining tension in his body and takes the time to blow dry his hair into it’s usual fluffy, messy fringe to distract his mind a little more. Louis is so determined to make this day okay - to make it feel like it’s just a normal day with a normal test he has to take and spends time with his normal, Uni friend in his normal, Uni life. He’s determined to prove himself wrong in the fact that he can act in an ordinary fashion like he used to, like everyone else does, and to also prove to himself that he’s stronger than the visicious monsters inside his head and outside of it, too.

Liam is already sitting at the kitchen counter when Louis walks into the room, a cup of his usual morning coffee and a bowl of scrambled eggs sitting infront of him while he scrolls through his phone.

“Morning, Li,” Louis greets him quietly, casting a small, genuine smile at his best friend as he makes eye contact with him. Liam gives him a smile back and a wink before aveting his eyes back to his phone screen.

“Good morning. Your med refills came in this morning - they’re on the counter. And there are some more eggs on the stove, if you want some,” Liam comments absent-mindedly yet thoughtfully. “If you’re gonna eat some, though, make sure to leave some for Z. You know he’ll want some and you also know he’ll get grumpy if he doesn’t have at least an entire egg on his plate.”

“When is he not grumpy, though?” Louis mumbles jokingly, mostly to himself, as he scoops a generous amount of scrambled eggs onto a plate and pours his pills for the morning next to them

“Who’s never not grumpy?” Zayn states as if right on que, walking out of his room looking nothing less than the Greek god he usually does. His eyes light up when he spots the skillet of eggs on the stove next to where Louis is leaning against it, eating his own plate of.

Louis smiles sweetly at him through a mouthful of eggs. “No one.”

Zayn makes a weird face at him that makes Louis return one before bursting into a tiny fit of giggles, moving his eggs around on his plate with his fork. He can feel Zayn’s eyeroll next to him as he hip checks him and fills his own plate up. Liam starts up idle conversation with him but Louis tunes out of it, lightly tapping out an old composition against his now-empty plate.

He keeps trying to think too much about what’s going to happen, because it’s not a big deal, his mind repeats to him for the upteenth time. And Louis knows that Zayn and Liam know that even though it’ll all be fine, that Louis is still anxious about it because it’s _Louis_ , so they try to bring him into the airy chit-chat they’re having. Louis plays along, only half of him really invested, but only as not to cause them any more unecessary stress or worry than he’s already inflicted on them.

Sooner or later, though, Liam and Zayn are heading out the door around a quarter past 11 as their testing room is further into the campus than Louis. They don’t say anything about it, really, but they do both hold Louis in tights so tight Louis feels like his organs are about to pop right out. Liam is giving him his third kiss on the cheek when they finally say something about it. Zayn is pulling on one of his sneakers as Liam speaks.

“You’ll be just fine, Lou. I promise,” Liam says, one of his hands coming up to card once through Louis’ chestnut locks. “And you know I wouldn’t promise if I didn’t think it wouldn’t all be fine.”

Louis nods like he understands and gives off a shrug to make it seem like it’s not a big deal. It’s not. “Good luck on your test. Both of you. You’ll be up to par, I’m sure of it.”

And because Louis knows Zayn’s been a little stressed about this test and Louis’ comment hit him in a sweet spot, Zayn softly drums his fingers on the small of Louis’ back, a laugh that feels like his touch escaping him.

“You too, bebz.”

Liam and Zayn are right outside of the still-open door when they both turn back around to give Louis A Look. It’s Zayn who speaks out. “Call us if you need _anything_ and we’ll be there in a flash, y’know.”

The smile that enters Louis’ face is grateful and it’s real. “I know. Love the two of you idiots.”

The two said idiots both chuckle and Zayn rolls his eyes, but it’s a love-filled gesture, so it’s okay.

Once they’re gone, his phone buzzes with a text. The contact says it’s from Harry (he had insisted on exchanging numbers, since they’re now friends and also so Harry can update Louis on his escorting business. Or something like that.) (There’s a banana emoji and a heart-eyed cat emoji next to his name.) (Louis isn’t charmed at all.) so he slides the screen to read it.

_Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyy. Be up in a few, hope you’re ready. Also, good morning! xx_

And for some reason, the fact that Harry signs off his texts with two x’s rather than just one or none makes Louis very happy. Harry seems to do that sometimes. Louis types back his response with a small, pleased smile on his face.

_morninn h and yes i am see you soon xx_

He quickly jogs back into his room to stuff his Statistics book, flat keys, phone, and his laptop with all his review notes on it into the backpack he used last year. Louis tries very hard not feel bad about not using his backpack in so long, just leaving it in the corner of his room, lonely and unnoticed. It only looks a little worn out from being used all last year, but other than that, it’s basically just a solid mass of canvas and dust.

The sound of knocks being made on the door sound from Louis’ room, signaling (hopefully. Probably.) Harry’s arrival, so Louis slings his bag over his shoulder and makes a small dash to the door. “Just a second!”

It’s times like these where Louis _really_ hates the five death-locks they have on their door - when he’s trying to open them in a hurry. His feet slide into the pair of black Vans that he never unties easily as he opens the last lock. Behind the door, Harry is standing there in a pair of dark blue jeans and a red and black flannel, his usual pair of ankle boots adorning his feet. His long curls are all swept into a side part, the thicker side being tucked behind his ear. There’s a dimply smile on his face and a cardboard container holding two styrafoam cups of tea, it smells like, in them. Louis could probably kiss him. (For how appetizing he looks or for how appetizing the tea he brought smells. Probably definitely both.)

“Hey,” Louis says, a little breathlessly, he notes into his Pathetic Folder. His hands tighten on where they’re holding his backpack handles and he hitches them up his back a little.

“Hi, there,” Harry replies sweetly, holding the containers out towards him. “Tea?”

“God, _yes_ , please and thank you,” Louis says as he pushes himself out of the door and reaches into the little side pocket where he stuffed his keys into to fish them out. By now, he’s a pro at locking up all of their locks properly in under 12 seconds. After he wiggles the door handle to make sure it’s fully locked, he turns to look at Harry and takes the cup that’s closest to him. The warm cup melts through the slight tremors of his hands and he blows on the top lightly as they start to walk through the complex.

Harry rambles idly as they make their way across the campus, weaving lightly through tiny crowds of people. Louis uses every single drop of willpower he has to focus soley on the deep rumble of Harry’s words and he even goes the extra step to be attentive to his talk and laughs and makes noises when needed. He focuses on the way the still-too-hot tea burns his tongue and makes it feel a little dead. It works but it also doesn’t.

With each step they take across the warm-weathered campus, Louis feels the anxiety inside of him grow. He can tell that Harry knows he’s not feeling too good about this whole escapade, but, as always, he doesn’t ask any questions or even acknowledges it, and for that, Louis is so thankful. (And, honestly, Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being thankful for this wonderfully sweet boy.)

As Louis’ testing building comes into their sight and the crowd of people around it increases in business even more than it had been, Harry subtly inches closer to Louis - to the point where he’s as close to Louis as he can possibly be without actually touching him.

Usually, someone being just this close to Louis that isn’t Liam or Zayn would send him spiriling down, but Louis finds that he actually kind of enjoys how close Harry is. His strong, warm prescence sedates the voices inside Louis’ head a bit, and he makes Louis’ skin feel cleaner by each second.

They’re just braiding through a massive mass of people right on the inside of the building, and everyone is so fucking _close_ and _compacted_ and Louis feels like he can’t fucking _breathe_ because there’s so many unfamiliar bodies that are brushing against his and knocking into his and there’s a little group of lacrosse guys next to the staircase in their kits that are all staring at Louis with those stupid little smirks on his face and Louis seems to have lost Harry in the crowd and he kind of feels like he’s going to actually throw up if he doesn’t get out of here within the next three seconds.

Louis’ just turning around to bolt back out the door and just email his teacher that he’ll settle for taking an F for the test when suddenly Harry is there. He’s leaned in close to Louis so his mouth is right next to his ear and his hand is on the back of Louis’ backpack, right above the place where the middle of Louis’ spine should be. Louis can feel Harry’s tea-warm breathe on his ear as he whispers to him, “S’okay, Lou. We’re almost there.”

And Harry is pushing Louis forward, gentle as per, but with just enough force to keep Louis’ legs moving. Fortunately, Louis’ testing room is only on the second floor, so they only have to walk up two flights of stairs and foyers that aren’t as crowded as the main floor. Harry keeps his hand on Louis’ backpack and his head near Louis’ shoulder. They don’t speak.

It’s when they finally reach the outside of Louis’ empty classroom that Harry takes a few steps back, taking Louis’ empty cup from his, once again shaking, hands and gives him a small, encouraging smile.

“I’ll be hanging around here until you’re done. Go get ‘em.”

Louis walks into the classroom with a timid smile directed towards Harry and nods his head a little - either to convince Harry or himself, though, he doesn’t know.

-

Louis being Louis and having studied for an approximate total of eight and a half hours for this huge test, finishes about an hour earlier, only 45 minutes into the session, than he expected to. He gathers all the sheets and the calculator his professor lent him in the beginning of the hour, pulling his bag onto his back and weaving out of the rows of tablet-seats to walk to the front. There’s a small, pleased smile on his face as he hands his sitting professor his test and his calculator. “Here you go.”

Louis’ old, grey professor returns the smile with an appreciative nod. “I’ll grade this now, then. Have a nice weekend and see you the next test, Louis.”

“You too, sir.”

With the sudden urge to pee, Louis goes out the detor door in the front of the classroom rather than the back one he entered through because it’s closer to the bathroom. The hallways are basically empty, by now, since most of the students that had been here earlier are still in their classes. He’s able to successfully locate the bathrooms after a few wrong turns, not being in this building in such a long time he’d forgotten.

In the bathroom, it’s big and white and sterile and to Louis’ continuing contentment, empty. He quickly does his business in one of the stalls and let’s the loud, obnoxious flush echo off the tile walls as he zips back up his pants.

Louis doesn’t realize another person’s entered the bathroom until they’ve appeared in the mirror behind him.

It makes Louis jump when the guy appears and said guy gives a short chuckle when he sees Louis cautiously checking him out in the mirror. The only information Louis is able to gather is that he’s at least four inches taller than him and he looks like one of the lacrosse guys that had been staring smugly at Louis earlier in the morning. The naseau Louis felt earlier returns at the thought and Louis averts his eyes, turning off the sink who’s water was running over his hands.

He can hear the sound of the guy taking a piss in one of the unguarded urinals behind him and Louis feels a small spark of discomfort rushing up to his face as he hastily pumps some paper towels for his dripping hands.

“So, you that boy from the news, right? The one who gone and got all fucked with?” The boy asked, a slightly sarcastic laugh escaping him. The urinal flushes and so does Louis’ face with it. He can hear his heart beating in his ear in a little, scared pulse.

“No,” Louis lies, his voice aiming for short and definite but instead coming out shaky and sounding just as terrified as he feels. Louis is turning on his heel to make a run for the door, but the lacrosse player was stationed in between the two already and he makes a grab to grip Louis’ arm before he can get very far.

The guy starts to slowly pull Louis to the bare wall next to the urinals, his hand still in a clench around Louis’ bicep, his entire face priggish. Louis, not being one to put up much of a fight when someone turns on him anymore, can only give off a quiet whimper of, “Let me go.”

Louis flinches when the guy laughs again. “What’s the magic word?”

“ _Please_.”

“I can think of something else I’d _much_ rather do to you than let you go, though,” he whispers, his arms moving down to grip at Louis’ hips behind his backpack. The guys hands are kneading roughly at where they’re placed on Louis and his lips are sucking a bruise onto Louis’ upper neck as he writhes weakly underneath him.

“Please, just stop,” Louis dry sobs and he’s about to keep pleading (even though he knows for a fact that pleading doesn’t get him anywhere other than deeper in) with the guy but he’s cut off when the lips on his neck travel to his lips instead - more teeth than lip.

By this point, Louis is frantically trying to kick at the guy’s shins and trying to push him away with his hands, but the lacrosse player is too buff, too strong, and Louis is too weak.

Louis’ eyes are wrenched shut as the guy’s hands go to his arse and starts to grope him and he can’t hear anything except for the terrified and angry shrieks in his head. The guy is on him until he’s suddenly not anymore, and all Louis can do is sink down the tiled wall until he’s seated on the floor in his signiture movement in times like these - legs curled up to his chest, hands tight over his ears, forehead buried between his knees and his whole being rocking back in forth in time with his shudders.

It feels like Louis is stuck underwater again, his hearing all jumbled and blurry, and he can hear a heavy voice calling him up from the surface. It’s a slow process, having the muffled sounds around him filter through the water in his ears, before Louis can finally understand it.

“Louis, I’m going to touch you, alright? Do you understand? I need you to nod your head if you’re okay with that.”

He immediatly knows the sweet, raspy voice belongs to Harry. Louis can smell the familiar scent of honey dew melon and fresh laundry. Louis doesn't even want to know how Harry got that guy to go away, but his hands slide down from over his ears to pat around in the thin air. He gets what he’s looking for when he feels a large hand engulfing his own, and it anchors him enough to give a minisicule nod of his head, because even though Louis can’t stand to be touched, he just _really_ needs to be held right now.

Slowly, Louis can feel him being lightly pulled away from the wall and a solid warmth across his back, settling behind him and pressing against him. There’s a voice close to his ear that’s making soft shushing noises and the hand that isn’t holding on tightly to his own is resting around his ankle, keeping him here. Louis can feel his own tears dripping down his face as they stay rested on his curled-up knees and he can feel a strong, steady heart beating against his back.

“Shh, Lou, I know you’re scared, but I need you to try and take a big, deep breath with me.”

And Louis feels like there’s no possible way in hell that he’ll be able to do that, because it’s been _months_ since he’s been touched like that, talked to like that. The phantom hands he usually feels creeping around his body at times like these are more real than not, this time - they feel like the tough, dirty hands that had been on him only minutes ago. Louis can still feel the guy’s lips on his own, can feel the bruise he made on his neck, and Louis feels hot bile rising in his throat.

“I’m going to be sick,” Louis whimpers, his voice quiet and cracking on every syllable.

“Okay. I’ve got you.”

Harry moves his hands to instead unwind Louis’ legs until they’re resting in a _V_   alongside his just in time for him to vomit in between them. He keeps throwing up until all that’s coming out is stomach acid and until the force of it brings tears to his eyes, and he keeps contracting his throat in a desperate attempt to get the taste of the guy’s tongue out of his system. It makes his tongue feel thick and heavy like it was injected with venom.

Hands that belong to Harry skim down Louis’ arms until they’re entwining into his fingers from behind. Both of his hands come up to press against Louis’ chest, right near his heart. His hands are moving up and down in rapid succession and it takes a few seconds for Louis to realize that the racing heartbeat is his and he attaches the frantic heartbeat are actually his own breathes being ripped from his lungs. Harry’s body presses even closer from behind him.

“You feel where my hands are?” Harry murmurs. Louis does, so he nods.

“Good. Now, you feel my chest behind you?” Louis nods again and he can see where Harry is going with this - it’s a move Liam and Zayn have performed time after time again over the past few months.

“Okay. You’re doing so good, Lou. Just keep listening to what I say to you. I need you to move your chest like mine, right where my hands are. As slowly as you can manage, please."

It takes a little more than a few moments for Louis to get a full breathe through his clogged throat, to drag one from his heaving lungs, but once he does, he finds it much easier to keep repeating the process and shakily match up with the slow, even breaths and the constant beating life behind him.

“I’m right here,” Harry softly reminds him as the threatening images behind his eyelids begin to fade away and his filthy skin sheds off. His cheeks are still slightly damp and muggy when he lifts his head from his knees, finding it easier to breathe deeply that way.

When the seemingly constant flow of tears finally comes to a halt and Louis is able to breathe clearly, his body goes completely limp in Harry’s arms, the relief of it _finally_ being over making cotton candy clouds grow in his tummy and float into his chest. He breathes and let’s himself be held even if he doesn’t really feel like being touched right now.

“Good job, Lou,” Harry sighs into the back of Louis’ neck. “You did so, _so_ well. I’m proud of you.”

They sit in silence like that, their chests moving in a symphony of exhalations before Louis clears the embarrassment out of his throat at what he realized he just did in front of who he just did. The shame inside of Louis swells until it makes Louis feel like he's going to burst with it.

“How did you find me?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry releases a long exhale from behind him again. “I was sitting outside your testing room when your teacher walked out. I asked him where you were and he said you left through the other door. Nearly tore through every room on the floor trying to find you.”

“I had to pee.”

“I figured that out,” Harry gives a short chuckle that makes the rest of the panicked tension in the room melt. “Now, you want tell me what happened, exactly?”

He asks the question in a tone that feels like snuggling under a pile of freshly-washed blankets straight from the dryer and that’s what makes Louis able to open his mouth and let the words tumble out.

“He just kind of...showed up. I was just going to leave, but he wouldn’t let me,” Louis says in a small voice, swallowing thickly to get the looming tears to halt. He can feel Harry go a little tense behind him and Louis decides Harry can probably figure out the rest from there.

Harry lets out a few tempered breathes of the sterile air. “Okay. You’re okay,” he says, a little like he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince Louis or himself more. “Let’s get you back to your place, yeah?”

Louis murmurs back _yeah_ as Harry let’s go of him and stands up first, his hands reaching out to softly grab at Louis’ elbows as he tries to get up and to avoid stepping in the puddle of his own vomit. Thankfully, Louis somehow managed not to get any sick on himself and he decides to count that as a point for himself. After the day he’s had, Louis figures he could use some small victories to help him out a bit.

Harry helps him over to the sink to clean himself up and to rinse his mouth as Louis is still too shaky and too dizzy to manage it completely by himself. After he’s dried off his face with some paper towel, though, Louis’ skin freezes over and the thought of having anyone else’s hands back on him, even Harry’s, makes him feel like he could probably be sick in the sink all over again.

The bigger boy seems to sense that as he doesn’t try to reach out to touch Louis in anyway again. Instead, he grabs Louis’ backpack off the floor and slings it over his shoulders, going over to the door to hold it open for Louis with a little sweep of his hand that tells him to go first. Louis responds with light pink cheeks and an appreciative but probably-not-too-convincing smile.

Together, the two walk back to Louis’ dorm in mostly silence, Harry keeping the distance he’s normally been keeping since he’s known Louis between them. The only sound, other than the sound of nature and the few people prowling around them, is the sound of Harry quietly humming a song under his breathe. Louis recognizes it to be Coldplay, but he can’t be sure. He let’s it keep him centered, anyway.

When they return to Louis’ flat, he leaves the door open wide after he’s unlocked all the locks, giving Harry a silent invitation inside. Because even though being touched in any way, shape, or form right now are the close to the last things Louis wants right now, being alone is even further down the list, and Louis knows Zayn and Liam won’t be home for at least another hour.

He hears Harry close the door behind them, probably taking the time to learn which keys go into which sockets with Louis’ keyset he left on the little hook by the door, learning how to relock everything properly, because that’s such a Harry thing to do.

Meanwhile, Louis goes over to their collection of medicines and pills and finds his beta-blockers for the moments after his panic attacks. Even though he usually just takes his meds dry, he still fills up a cup of ice water from the tap and downs only one of the pills (since he already took his regular anxiety meds this morning and Liam lectures him regularly about how he needs to limit himself when it comes to his meds. Whatever.) and gulps down the remaining water in an attempt to fill the new holes in himself that he’s just lost with the cold water instead.

After taking a few moments to collect himself properly, he goes back into the living room to see Harry settled on his usual spot on the long couch, the remote in his hands as he flips through the channels for something. He turns to look at Louis when he hears him slide across the floor in his socks, giving him a small, encouraging smile and using his free hand to pat the spot on the couch a cushion away from him.

Louis responds with a small smile, still entirely convinced he isn’t pretending to be entirely convincing enough. He’s not okay right now, and he knows Harry knows that, too, but he feels like if he talks about anything that has to do with what just happened, then he’ll just start to panic again, and Louis really doesn’t want to make a weak fool out of himself in front of Harry. Again.

Curling up into the corner of the armrest with his arms wrapped around his legs, Harry finally settles on _Grease_ because he knows Louis isn’t feeling well and he knows _Grease_ always makes Louis feel better.

It’s already more than halfway through the movie, but Louis still lets a teeny  smile grace his lips as he watches the scene play. Every so often, he’ll feel Harry look at him out of the corner of his eye, and it takes a lot of willpower not to meet Harry’s eyes. Maybe if Louis were still who he used to be - loud and flirty and confident and so _full_ of all these different types of love - then he’d be able to do that.

If he were still who he used to be, he’d be able to crawl across the empty cushions between them and cuddle up into Harry’s side. Maybe he’d lean up to kiss Harry’s strawberry marshmallow lips and maybe Harry would kiss back and their lips wouldn’t detach for hours on end.

But then Louis remembers who he is and who Harry is, and the daydream seems so far up in the clouds that it feels like Louis would never be able to reach it. Besides, why would Harry - with his big, dazzling smile that makes Louis feel like he’s just laid out in the sun for hours and his golden heart that would go to the ends of the earth to make everyone on it happy - ever, ever have feelings for someone as insecure and defective and disgusting as Louis? Then there’s the fact that Louis can hardly even think about having someone touch him, even in the most innocent of intimate moves possible without feeling like his skin is being burned.

Louis’ thought process is accented by the little pang he feels on his neck, right where the guys lips were earlier, and Louis shoots up from the couch without a word. He jogs to the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror as he extends his neck out and leans in close to it.

And it’s right there next to the underside of Louis’ chin - a small, dark magenta bruise that represents all of Louis’ weakness and all the things he’s ever tried to forget. Louis has to swallow thickly a few times to get the returning bile out of his throat.

There’s a light knocking on the half-open door. “Louis? Are you sick again?”

It’s Harry and he sounds worried and Louis has to clear his throat to get the monsters out of it before he can speak, his voice just above a whisper. “No.”

“Can I come in, please?”

“Yeah.”

The door creaks open the rest of the way and Harry slides in, quietly taking his place on the wall behind Louis. A tight-lipped frown sets on his face and his eyes harden as they look at Louis’ fingers that are brushing softly over the throbbing bruise on his neck.

It’s quiet for a few seconds before it’s broken by Harry and his voice is much more soft than his face looks. “What are you going to tell Zayn and Liam?”

He doesn’t say it in a persuasive or demanding way - like there’s no option to _not_ tell them - but in a gentle, curious sort of way. It makes Louis able to take a deep breathe through his mouth.

“Nothing.”

Because Louis absolutely _cannot_ give them yet another reason to worry about him, because it’s what he hates more than anything - putting his burdens and problems on them and weighing them down. He can’t.

Louis watches as Harry’s face grows more bemused but he doesn’t open his mouth to question Louis. He reaches down into the top drawer of the sink’s cupboard and scuffles his fingers around inside of it before he finds the bottle of liquid concealer that he was looking for.

It’s half empty and it’s from right when Louis came back and thought that covering up the evidence on his body would make it seem like it didn’t happen. Louis unscrews the cap and can feel Harry’s eyes on him through the mirror as he starts to silently apply the concealer to the bruise on Louis’ neck - the exact same shade as his light caramel skin.

By now Louis’ a pro at this, and the thought makes his insides turn a shade cooler. He finishes touching up the bruise until it’s generally hidden, but when Louis tilts his chin down to it’s normal stance, you can’t even tell it’s there at all. Louis twists the cap of the concealer back on and and shoves it back into the drawer, closing it a little more forcefully than necessary as he starts to feel the hot burn of tears welling up in his eyes.

He sets his hands on the edge of the counter and ducks his head down, rocking back and forth on his heels as he takes deep breaths - in through his nose and out through his mouth - and forces himself not to cry.

There’s a small shuffling behind him and then he can feel the heat radiating off of Harry’s body, creating a bubble around him but not _on_ him. The only touch he feels is Harry’s forehead being pressed into his upper back and his arms coming up to grip tightly onto the counter, only inches away from Louis’ own. A steady presence that let's Louis know he's not alone and that someone is _there_.

They stay like that until they hear the sound of Liam and Zayn coming home a half an hour later and they don’t say a word. **  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Louis may or may not be ignoring Harry.

He's too ashamed to admit if he is, though, so he's resolved to compulsively denying it whenever the curly-haired lad comes up.

And it's not like Louis feels _good_ about not replying to Harry's texts or staying curled up in his room when he knows Harry is over. It's not like Louis gets a weird sense of pleasure when Harry's large hand knocks on Louis' bedroom door whenever he comes over, calling out a soft _hey, Lou_ everytime, and the small, disappointed sigh Louis can _always_ hear through the door when Louis never replies.

Even Liam and Zayn can sense that something is up with Louis - well, something other than what's usually up with Louis these days, that is - by the way he really only comes out of his room anymore to piss and showed and brush his teeth and get food every so often. The two will still crawl into Louis' bed at night when his screaming wakes them up and they'll cuddle him until he settles down but they still don't ask about the obvious tension surrounding Louis and Harry.

They still don't know about The Bathroom Incident(s) and Louis hopes to hell they never will, because he doesn't need them ( _lovingly_ , Louis always has to remind himself. They love him too much for their own good and God knows why.) on his back anymore than they already are. He loves them too much, too, to not put anymore of his baggage on their backs.

It's been an entire week since The Bathroom Incident(s) thus being an entire week since Louis and Harry have spoken and _honestly_ , Louis finds it ridiculous that he's doing this stupid fucking thing. He's just so _embarassed_ , is the thing. He's embarrassed and scared ashamed because he finally made friends with A Decent Human Being and he's gone and probably fucked it all up because he showed said Human Being just how fucked up he really is.

Louis knows Harry is just way too kind of a person to bring it up or let him down - gently, if he were too, because that's practically the boy's middle name - so he'd probaby just go on, acting like nothing is wrong, but Louis also just knows that something would be different between them. In the few weeks they've known eachother, Louis' already become almost just as comfortable with Harry than he is with Liam and Zayn, both of which he's known his whole life, through everything.

Things are just so _easy_ with Harry. He's the only person who doesn't treat Louis like he's going to break at any point yet he respects Louis' nonspoken boundaries. It seems as though everyone these days looks at Louis with pity in their hearts for him and Louis is just so afraid to see Harry treat him like that now, too.

-

Louis wakes up not knowing what time of day it is or what day it is.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep to be honest - just remembers sitting back in his bed and reading a book for his advanced English class and then the next second, the book had flopped over in his hands, his thumbs still pressed into the spine of the page he was reading, and his neck had a cramp in it from rolling backwards to rest against the wall behind his bed.

With the ever-so helpful glance at the clock on his bedside table, it tells Louis it's half past seven, but it doesn' tell whether it's in the morning or night. Nice.

Louis' stomach decides to make itself known at that point, so Louis dogears the page of the book he's reading and gets up from his bed, taking a few seconds to stretch his stiff, aching limbs as he goes.

There's a slight chill running through the flat so Louis pulls on another pair of socks as well as a pair of baggy sweatpants over his running shorts and an old sweatshirt of his back from his highschool-footy-team-days. He's rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes as he shuffles out into kitchen.

Louis' just blindly reaching to open up the fridge when he lightly bumps into a large, steady figure. His eyes snap into awareness and he comes face to face - _well_ , more like face to chin, seeing as Harry is at least seven inches taller than Louis - with a familiar pair of green eyes that are framed by mane of raven curls.

And, well, _fuck_. Louis forgot for a second that Harry is literally, legit _friends_ with his own, which means be can just be at their flat without even having a reason to.

Then, Louis comes to it a second later, noticing the small gasp that's escaped out of himself and the large, warm hand on his hip to keep him from stumbling over. This situation feels all too familiar.

He doesn't realize he said exactly that outloud until Harry starts to chuckle, lowly, the hand on his hip squeezing once before releasing. "Yeah, sorry about that."

A warm blush rushes up to Louis' cheeks and he gives one a single, short laugh, subconciously taking a few steps back from Harry and his chest opens back up. He takes a few deep breathes, getting the air used to being back in his lungs, and moves his eyes back to the fridge, trying to act causal by opening it back up and rummaging through it.

Harry doesn't speak, but he does stay there, quietly observing Louis. Out of the corner of Louis' eye, he can see that Harry's bottom lip is caught between his teeth, like he's debating on whether or not to say something.

No matter how Harry feels about Louis now, he by no means wants to hurt Harry's feelings by not saying anything and just walking back info his room, so Louis starts looking through the fridge with more purpose. He's picking up a small vanillia yogurt cup when Harry finally decides to say what's on his mind.

"Can we talk?" Harry speaks, his voice soft and questioning, and when Louis looks up at him he's just standing there, still biting his lip, his fingers fiddling together and playing with the rings on them like he does when he's nervous or uncomfortable.

 _God, I should definitely not know that_ , Louis thinks.

His sarcastic response comes out naturally, much like all his words used to. "Aren't we already talking?"

His comment ends off with a shaky chuckle, not at all believable, and he can tell that by the look Harry gives him, and the barely audible _please, Louis_ that comes out of his mouth.

The small, fake smile that was on Louis' face melts right off and he instead looks down again, nodding his head in confirmation, and turing on his heel towards his room. He can hear Harry lag behind him, a drawer opening and shutting, and when they get to Louis' room after Harry closes the door, the two are standing only feet apart from each other and Harry has a spoon in his hand that he's holding out towards Louis to take.

The smile that graces Louis' face this time is real. It's barely there, sure, but it's the realest smile he's given out in days. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem."

Louis goes to sit on the farthest side of the bed away from the door. The awkward silence is back as Harry sits on the edge of the other side and Louis starts to slowly, self-conciously eat his yogurt and thinks about how much more he hates himself for ruining this friendship with this perfect boy.

Louis finishes his yogurt eventually and a word between them has yet to be passed. When he looks to Harry, though, it's with an unreadable expression on his face, his teeth now making his lips red and torn, and his eyes are closed, faced toward his knees, which are beant up underneath him. Louis wants to crawl across the bed to Harry and kiss the sad, debating look off his face, but he doesn't want to inturupt Harry's thought process, so he just lays back on the side of the bed and waits.

"I was abused, y'know."

It was silent for so long that the words startle Louis, though Harry's voice is as soft as ever before and for a second Louis prays he heard him wrong, but when Louis' eyes snap up to meet Harry's, his expression says he heard exactly right. Louis still doesn't say anything as he feels himself start to fill up with icewater. He knows this is something he has to let Harry continue at his own pace with.

And he does. "By my, um, biological father. Physically, verbally, sexually, any and every kind in the book. Went on from ages 9 to 12, almost every night or every time my Mum went away for work before I finally got the balls to tell my sister who told my Mum who filed for a divorce and kicked him out of the house a day later. Went to trial for this and everything, too. He's locked up now."

Harry's eyes avert back downwards and Louis feels himself, going _down, down, down_ , and he wants so fucking _badly_ to say something, _anything_ , to shout to the world why it would ever let anyone hurt this beautiful boy, why all the stars and the moon and the big, burning sun didn't protect this precious boy who's sitting infront of him with tears welling up in his eyes but not falling.

But the only thing Louis can do is let his own eyes fill with unshed tears, too, as Harry starts to speak again. "It fucked me up pretty badly, to say the least. I'm not going to go into, er. Into too much detail." Harry pauses to take a shaky breathe in before continuing. "I only stopped going to therapy when I came down here for school. I'm not completely better yet, but I'm getting there. Day by day, it gets a little easier to carry on with."

Harry's wet eyes finally come up to meet Louis' own. He starts to answer the question on the tip of Louis' tongue, his voice still so incredibly _soft_. "You've probably been ignoring me because you think I pity you after last week or I don't want to deal you, but I can fucking _swear_ to you, with all my heart, Louis, that's not at all true. I'm not telling you this because I pity you and I want to make you feel better or I want you to pity me, either, or anything, obviously. And I'm not telling you this to compare it to what you probably went through."

Louis feels himself blush, again, but he wills himself to maintain eye contact because he knows that's what Harry needs. Harry sniffs and swiftly wipes his fingers under his eye, though his cheeks are still dry and his voice is growing thicker with each word.

"The only reason I'm telling you about this is because though I hardly know anything about you, I do know that you went through something. Something terrible." Harry starts to become blurry through Louis' eyes and Louis finally lets the tears roll down his cheeks, one by one. "I can tell. And I just want you to know that though our situations might not be anywhere near similar, at least I pray to God they're not, I still want - no, _need_ you to know that you're not alone. You'll always have someone who can understand where you're coming from."

Louis is full on, silently, properly crying now, too overcome by Harry's words and the unknown feeling he has sitting heavy in his chest, slowly sizzling and burning right through him. "And I need you to know that if you ever need to, you can trust me. Because I might not know about the things you've experienced, but I do know about pain, and how badly I wished I had someone when that was all I was feeling for so long."

By the constant ramble of sniffles coming from the bigger boy, Louis can't really tell if Harry is crying, too, but he can assume that he probably is, and that makes Louis' chest feel like it's going to be burned right through the bone and flesh.

Without even a second passing to think too much about it, Louis is sitting up and then he's wrapping himself around Harry's quivering body and Harry's long limbs are wrapping Louis right back. Harry's arms feel like an old, rickety heater around his back - shaky and rattling with warmth and giving off comfort, even when it's still looking for some itself.

If Harry wasn't crying before, he definitely was now, his face buried in the side of Louis shoulder and his muscles contracting with his quiet sobs. Louis doesn't even think about the fact that he's being touched right now, can't even bring himself to care, just brings one of his hands up to stroke through Harry's curls in a hopefully soothing manner. Because seeing Harry cry, feeling his hot tears soak through Louis' thick hoodie, and knowing the reason _why_ is like watching sun become overcome with clouds before it starts to storm, and Louis never wants to see this happen again.

He'll make sure of it.

"It's okay, H, _God._ " Louis soothes quietly into Harry's neck, breathing in his familiar scent - comforting enough to let his mind drift away from Harry's pain and help him focus on calming him instead. "I'm so fucking sorry."

The comment slips out of Louis without any warning but Louis finds that he doesn't really mind. He knows he said that not because he pities Harry - hell, would _that_ be ironic if that were the case - but he said it in reference to the way he totally and completely ignored Harry for the past week when all Harry ever did to Louis was be the sweet, genuinely caring person he is. Louis let his own mind get to him, as usual, and let down the world's closest thing to an angel in the process, and Louis' never felt so awful.

(Well, he actually kind of has. But that's not the point, anyway.)

He's about to explain himself and make sure Harry knows he's not totally contradicting the both of them by pitying him in that way. But, by the way Harry's arms tighten around Louis, just the slightest, and the way Louis swears twelve time over that he felt Harry's lips pucker against where they're tucked into his neck and into a kiss, just for a second - Louis figures Harry understands what he meant.

-

It's 12 minutes later when Harry's eyes dry out and his body stops shaking and he lifts his head from Louis' shoulder with a sheepish yet grateful smile and an _I've been holding all those in to myself for seven years_.

Harry leaves the flat that night with a swift kiss to Louis' forehead and no words are exchanged.

-

It becomes better, between them, after that.

Louis didn't think it was possible for him and Harry to get any more, you could say, _situated,_ with each other than they had been until the baby elephant in the room had been shipped somehwere else in a land that's far away. Preferably to the elephant, a metaphorial sub-Saharan rainforest somehwere in Africa.

And if Louis is a little excited about having a new friend after such a long time - especially one who doesn't know all about his dirty little secrets and especially one with curly hair and dimples - then sue him, okay, like Louis is just really fucking excitable when it comes to things like that.

It's not that Louis doesn't utterly adore Liam and Zayn, and it's not like Liam and Zayn don't utterly adore Louis back. It's just that Harry doesn't hold that same cloud over his head like they all do - the cloud that reminds them that _hello, Louis isn't well, you must treat him with your upmost affectionate pity and your undivided care, like he is a newborn glass vase, thank you very much._

And another thing that, to Louis, is worth internally celebrating over, is the fact that Harry knows that Louis isn't necessarily right in more places than he is, yet rather than pushing Louis for details - or, the easiest way, just google searching his name and reading the articles that come up. Louis doesn't like to brag, but over the months he's become quite popular on the news. - Harry instead lets Louis know that he's there. That he's there, he knows but he doesn't, and he won't know unless Louis ever decides to tell him, which he'll always, _always_ be open for.

Over the past few months, Louis has gotten so used to gentleness - gentle looks and gentle voices and gentle touches that portray just how badly a person feels for him. And Harry is gentle, but in the way that that's just who Harry is and probably has been for his whole life - a gentle and peaceful giant that likes to make people feel good, comfortable, _safe_.

When Harry treats Louis with gentleness, Louis knows it's not in the way that means Harry feels sorry for him and wants to make sure all his glued-together pieces don't crumble apart again. He treats Louis with gentleness because that's just his nautual nature, and because that's how he treats basically everyone he comes across (from at least what Louis' seen, that is). And after Harry's multiple, sublte little comments he'll make when around Louis, he's destined to make sure that Louis doesn't feel out of place compared to everyone else, like Louis' been feeling for a while now.

Harry wants to make sure that Louis doesn't feel like he's different from the rest - like he doesn't have an electric black storm cloud constantly wavering right above his head - like he's normal. When Louis' with Harry, he can sometime manage to let the rest of the world and all his thoughts slip away from him, just for a few moments, and Louis can sometimes in those moments feel like he's normal again.

Like there were never any cracks in Louis in the first place.


End file.
